


Curse and Coincidence

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Archaeology, Cats, Curses, M/M, Magical Artifacts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:02:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is a very good archaeologist if he does say so himself. However, he's fairly sure Louis Tomlinson definitely is not, and Harry would very much appreciate if he would stay away from his excavation sites.<br/>When they both happen upon the same artefact, things may go a bit wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curse and Coincidence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thoughtlessblogger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtlessblogger/gifts).



Harry Styles knew Louis Tomlinson fairly well. They were often at the same digs, crossing paths and going off the same tip-offs. 

The fact of the matter is, though, that Harry Styles absolutely _hated_ Louis Tomlinson.

Because you see, some people weren’t meant to work with artefacts. They simply couldn’t handle the responsibility. What archaeologists spent months or even years excavating was something that should be shared by everyone, admired by the public, shown proudly to generations to come. And that’s what Harry prided himself on doing; any time something that he helped discover ( _rediscover_ , he always corrected himself) ended up in a museum or otherwise on display, he felt such an immense swell of accomplishment. 

But then there was Louis. 

Their first interactions had been civil, maybe even friendly. But that was before Harry had found out what he _was_.

He was a trader.

He wasn’t an archaeologist, no, that was a term for people who did good, furthered progress, helped the people. No, whatever Louis managed to dig up ( _or steal_ , Harry assumed) never made it to a museum, never went on display - at least, not publicly.

Traders would take those precious artefacts and trade them away on the black market, selling them to the highest bidder. It was horrible, and just thinking about it made Harry’s blood absolutely boil. The fact that he ever considered Louis the least bit attractive was clearly some sort of mental shortcoming on his own part. Anyone who cloaked themselves in _lies_ and _monetary gain_ like he did must be the most hideous person alive.

(This was something Harry found he had to remind himself of often, but that was beside the point). 

So now, seeing Louis at this dig that Harry had spent months meticulously excavating, Harry wasn’t ready to let him get away with poaching off of any of his hard work.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Harry demanded, marching himself up to where Louis was squatting in one corner of the excavation plot they had marked out. 

Louis was, as always, under-dressed for a real dig. He wore black skinnies (already dusty) and an eighties rock shirt (also black, way too hot for the sun above them). His pack of tools was on the ground next to him.

Harry, on the other hand, prided himself on how well put together he was; his hair was up in a meticulous bun so that none of it flew in his face or stuck to his neck once he started sweating, the blouse he had chosen was lightweight and let the air in while keeping the dust out, and his worn brown boots helped him gain traction in the dirt. Clearly, of the two of them, he was the one who knew what he was doing.

“Harry,” Louis said in greeting, barely glancing up. “Thought you’d never get here. How long did it take you to pick out that spectacular outfit?”

 _My outfit is perfect,_ Harry fervently reminded himself. 

“Louis. Threw on the first thing you saw this morning and forgot about how professionals dress for a dig?”

“Pretty sure professionals don’t dress in runway knockoffs so I’m not sure who you are to judge.”

Okay so his boots were technically last season, but, “I’m sorry, I don’t have millions to spend on the latest trends because I donate what I find instead of _selling it off_ -“

“Oh get off your fucking high horse, Styles-“

“Get off my dig, Tomlinson-“

“Make me, Styles.”

Harry growled in frustration but, technically, there was nothing he could do. After all, he was a gentleman and wasn’t about to start a brawl. At least, not with other archaeologists around.

“This is a dig organized by the university,” he said as a last attempt.

“And I’m a student!” Louis said, his face morphing into a smile. “See?” He pulled out of his satchel a wallet and flipped it open to reveal a student I.D. card in the first pocket.

Harry took it for a closer look.

It was clearly fake.

He couldn’t handle another minute of Tomlinson, his day had already gone downhill enough. Instead of starting back in on the same argument they always had, Harry forced himself to roll his eyes and simply toss the wallet over his shoulder.

“Stay out of my dig.”

-

Of course, as was to be expected at this point, Louis Tomlinson did not stay out of his dig.

As the sun rose in the sky, they did successfully stay at opposite ends of the cleared space, along with a handful of others stretched out over the area. When they broke for tea in the heat of the day, the table they had set up in the tent had three new uncovered pottery pieces that some of the team were working on carefully restoring. 

They looked nice; whatever civilization seemed to have been living in this area was certainly more advanced than they had originally assumed, although they still hadn’t been able to figure out much about their domestic life; whether they were nomads or had permanent dwellings, their diets, and so on. Mostly what they had learned over the last few months of excavating was this tribe’s love of pottery and figurines, although they still hadn’t been able to find one entirely intact figure.

As Harry settled down to eat the lunch he had hastily packed that morning, he noticed that among the people taking a break, Louis wasn’t present.

 _Ignore Louis,_ his rational side told him.

 _That twat has found something,_ his other rational side told him.

 _Go punch him in the mouth and take it_ , his third, slightly less rational, dark side told him.

The good news is, Harry rarely listened to his slightly less rational dark side. Still, he did set his lunch aside to go see if he could spot Louis.

Outside he had to shield his eyes from the sunlight for a moment again. It was the heat of the day, reaching nearly 38 degrees, which was why they spent this time generally under the cool of the tent and generator-powered industrial fans (not that they helped much).

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he spotted Louis in the far corner of the dig, the only one out and clearly visible by his dark clothes. It was a wonder he wasn’t burning alive dressed like that.

As he approached Louis he realised that, to his horror, Louis was right in the spot where Harry had been clearing before he went inside for lunch. He was poaching directly on Harry’s area!

He stomped over with the full intent of getting into an actual physical altercation for the first time in his life (who was he kidding, Louis looked scrappy and he knew who was going to win that), but when he got over to right where Louis was he realised, to his sincere horror, that Louis had actually managed to _unearth_ something.

In _his_ dig.

“What the ever loving fuck do you think you’re doing?” Harry demanded, his righteous fury bubbling.

“Fuck off, you curly haired cunt.” Louis didn’t even glance up, too entranced in whatever he had found to even spare Harry a thought.

“Why do you always have to butt in on what clearly isn’t yours?” Harry demanded, getting down on his knees next to Louis and trying to push him out of the way while making sure that he didn’t damage the artefact that had been uncovered.

“Why do you always have to have a stick up your ass?”

It was at this point that Harry remembered that he was absolutely horrible at comebacks, which is why disputes of any kind didn’t generally go in his favour.

“Fuck you.”

Louis let out a cackle. “That the best you can come up with? Get out of my way Curly, you’re interrupting my shining moment.”

Harry absolutely did not want to get out of the way. On the other hand though, he was very much interested in whatever it was Louis was moments away from successfully removing from the ground, and he could probably fight him for it afterward.

Did that count as giving in? He didn’t know. Damn,

But he sat back on his heels anyway in a pouting silence.

The happy look on Louis’s face only grew as he managed to finally get the last of whatever he had found free of the rocks around it and slowly wiggled it out of place. When he brought it up in front of their faces, they both found with dismay that it was still far too caked in dirt and impacted stones to even remotely see what it is.

“That’s... rather disappointing,” Louis said, frowning at the _thing_ in his hands.

“It rather is,” Harry agreed before he remembered that Louis was the enemy.

Right. The enemy.

“So if you’ll just hand it over to me, I can put it where it properly belongs so that we can carefully clean it off without damaging it, which I imagine you don’t have the ability to do on your own.”

Louis shrugged. “I’m still a student here-“

“With a clearly fake I.D.-“

“So I have all the same access to tools that you do.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not letting your inexperience with tools that are clearly for professionals only damage what should rightfully be mine.”

“You clearly don’t know how to use them that wel if you still have that stick up your ass.”

Harry shot Louis a glare. “That should be mine.”

Louis met his glare evenly. “Yet it’s not. Look at that.”

“It belongs in a museum!”

“It belongs to me, and then to whomever cares enough to pay enough.”

“That’s illegal! It belongs to the National Trust and you know it!”

“Maybe if we were in the UK right now it would. Unlucky for you, the plane back doesn’t leave for another three days. Until then you’ve got no claim on it.”

Harry hoped the glare he was giving Louis could chill a thousand suns, although Louis unfortunately seemed unfazed.

“Listen,” Louis said after a moment. “You’re not getting this artefact. I’ve been digging here just as long as you have. I have as much right to this as you do.”

“Except you moved over to my plot as soon as I took a lunch! I wouldn’t think of that as at all fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Curly.”

The argument was bound to go around in circles again, except another anthropologist walked up right then, clearly having just finished his lunch.

“Tomlinson, Styles,” he nodded to each of them. “I see you’ve got something much larger than anything we’ve found thus far! Fantastic.”

He was an older man, the kind who stood with his hands behind his back and could make everyone around himself feel young in comparison. Louis and Harry both nodded respectfully at him.

“Tomlinson, I assume you’ll be handing that over to Styles for cleaning and recovery. He is our resident expert in that department, you know.”

“Yes of course,” Louis’s voice chirruped out, suddenly much more agreeable than it was before. “We were just taking a moment to take bets on what we think it’ll be before we move it indoor. Not too late to add your bet! I’m saying it’s going to be a cooking pot.”

Harry thought he may gag from how fake Louis’s attitude had suddenly become. Sucking up to a higher up that wasn’t even technically his own! Horrible.

“Mm, yes.” The older archaeologist didn’t seem particularly inclined to add his own speculations, but also not inclined to move along either. It was clear that Louis was hoping he would, but after a minute of awkward silence, he made a show of examining it one more time before carefully handing it over to Harry.

“I expect you’ll show it to me first thing,” Louis said to Harry, still using that horribly cheery voice. “I do have my speculations, after all.”

Harry, having finally gotten the wonderful artefact in his hands, felt a massive smile growing on his face. “Of course, let me just get it off to the tables right away.”

He did a sort of bow as he left ( _Why? Why did I do that?_ ), and then scurried off to the table under the awning of the tent, both excited for the chance to be in the shade and excited to have gotten his hands on whatever this thing was that Tomlinson had managed to steal from him.

Because that’s what he had done. This wasn’t rightfully Louis’s.

Right?

-

Harry took more care in cleaning this artefact than any others he had over found. For one thing, it was almost twice the size of any of the others. For another, it was so heavily covered and compacted with stone and dirt and dust that, if it weren’t for the translucent blue bits shining through small corners, he would have doubted it was anything other than a large rock.

He had procured a spot at the very back of the tent and while he worked he found, annoyingly, that Louis was once again in his shadow. Hovering.

“Could you _not_ do that?” Harry asked, delicately working away from one corner of the artefact.

“What?” Louis asked, his voice scratchy and quiet, as if worried at disturbing whatever great thing they had found.

“Hover!” Harry snarled. “You’re a bit of a distraction, you know.”

Try as he might to stay concentrated on the task at hand, Harry couldn’t help but notice Louis waggling his eyebrows. “Oh, distracting, am I?”

“Shut up,” Harry said. “Or I’ll break this in half for the prize inside.”

Louis shut up then, but he dragged a stool over next to Harry to carefully monitor his work. Which was ridiculous, Harry thought, seeing as how Louis had no idea how this part of the process worked anyway.

Still, he was grateful for the comfortable silence that followed, at least.

-

The fact of the matter was, sometimes Harry did things he wasn’t proud of.

And sometimes he did things that were downright stupid.

He wasn’t sure yet which category this decision fell into, but it was definitely one of them.

Because it wasn’t exactly stealing, you see. He had _almost, pretty much, practically_ been the one to find it, after all. It’s just that it was so beautiful and the first complete statue they’d ever found, and it deserved to belong in a museum, dammit!

So maybe he took advantage of the fact that Louis tended to get to the sites later in the morning than the rest of them. Maybe he booked an earlier flight than the rest of the excavation team so that he wouldn’t have to face Louis, who would demand that he give back the artefact.

And the artefact was _beautiful_.

He’d spent two days restoring it, with Louis continually hovering over his shoulder, both of them more enraptured with every bit of translucent colour that appeared. It ended up being a little less than a foot tall and only about four inches wide, standing slim with gentle curves. It was painted in shades of dark blue fading to orange, like a sunset on a clear night, and it had retained the majority of its colour - much more than any other artefact they’d unearthed. 

The best part about all of it was that this was the first statue that they were able to identify - and it was a _cat_.

(Louis had cooed over it when they had cleaned it up enough to tell). 

(Harry had had to work not to do the same).

So, yeah, maybe Harry had sort of avoided Louis that last day so that he didn’t have to give the cat back.

And maybe he had gotten on an earlier flight so that he could continue to avoid Louis.

And finally, back in his little studio flat on the outskirts of London, he maybe was starting to regret that decision. Louis had been so excited about the cat, he had reverently cradled it for a moment before Harry had made him return it, and to have taken that from him...

No. Louis was going to sell it on the black market. That wasn’t going to be okay either. Harry had to keep a firm moral resolve here.

Which was more easily said than done when that beautiful cat was staring at him from the mantle, where it would be until Friday when he could take it to the National Trust.

-

“ _Mrrrrooowr._ ”

“ _Mrrooooooooowrr._ ”

Harry turned over, rearranging his covers so that he could comfortably stretch his legs out. He peeked his eyes open long enough to look at his watch - 5:08. God, he had almost a whole hour to sleep. He buried himself more thoroughly under the covers and tried to get back to sleep.

“ _Mrroowr._ ”

“ _Mrrrooooowr._ ”

Had the neighbour’s cat gotten stuck in the bushes again? Wherever it had ended up it sounded like it was getting closer, and while Harry had always wanted a cat, this certainly wasn’t the time.

“ _Mrowr!_ ”

The door to his room creaked open and he shot upward. Had the cat gotten into his _flat?_

The door had creaked open, but he couldn’t see anything having entered the room. Still, when he listened carefully he could hear the meowing. He was sure he was imagining things at this point, and vowed to get an actual pet so that he could stop whatever fantasizing was happening here, and settled himself back down into his bed.

_Pit, pat, pit, pat, pit pat._

Harry groaned and smothered his face with his pillow. Mrs. Kikta had better get Chumley out of whatever mess he’d gotten himself into before he missed another minutes of sleep.

_Pit, pat, pit, pat, “Mrroooowr.”_

Nope, okay. Harry was giving up. He’d just get to work early, and take a nap when he got home.

-

“Mate, you look like hell.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Niall. Same to you.”

“I always look spectacular, it’s me Irish genes.”

Harry groaned into his coffee. “Please leave your Irish wit at the door, Nialler. I’m tired and was kept awake by an imaginary cat.”

“You know you can adopt one of those, right? You don’t have to make them up.”

“Shut up,” Harry laughed. “I could have sworn I was hearing an animal, but I asked my neighbour this morning and she said her cat had been inside all night. I dunno man, I might be going crazy.”

“Yeah, maybe you are. I always thought you’d be the first.”

“Go to your classroom, Niall.”

Niall laughed, ignoring the command. “Anyway, you’re back! How was the trip? Find fun old things?”

Harry perked up a bit at the chance to talk about it. “It was really great, actually! We found this sweet statue, probably was an idol or something, and it’s all in one piece! Here, I have a picture on my phone.”

He babbled on about it as Niall scrolled through the many pictures he had artfully taken of the cat statue, describing exactly how he had found it and highlighting the annoying interloper Louis who had tried to wade in on his prize. He’d complained about Louis to Niall on and off for over a year at this point.

Niall handed back the phone to him after his spiel ended. “So is that the imaginary cat that was haunting you then?”

Harry frowned. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous. It was, like, an actual cat. Meowing and stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Niall looked unimpressed. “You should get that shit blessed by a priest. You never know what could have attached itself to an idol over the centuries it was underground.”

Harry doubted it. Probably Mrs. Kikta just didn’t notice when Mr. Jiggles got out again. Mr. Jiggles was known for escaping. That was a hell of a lot more logical.

-

Louis had found Harry on Facebook.

The friend request sat in his notifications, and Harry didn’t know what to do about it. He was sure it was because Louis could only message him after they were friends, and he was going to demand Harry return the statue. 

Well. Harry wasn’t going to return the statue.

So he left the request unanswered. He couldn’t bring himself to directly deny it, though.

-

“ _Mrrrrooooowr_ ”

_Pit, pat, pit, pat, pit, pat._

“ _MrrrroooOOOWRRRrrr._ ”

Harry hadn’t even been in bed for ten minutes before the noise started up again. And it hadn’t stopped.

 _Creeaaaaaak_ , went a door somewhere in the flat.

“ _Mrow._ ”

 _Creeaaaaak_ , went another door.

 _Phsssssssht_ , went a faucet in what Harry assumed was the bathroom.

“ _Mrrrroooooowr_ ,” went the invisible cat that he definitely didn’t own.

It had been going on for almost an hour before he gave up and threw the covers off of himself. He stomped out to the sitting room and turned on a light. The sink in the other room was definitely running. Several doors that he had shut were open. 

The cat statue was now on the highest shelf of the bookshelf.

_This is a practical joke, _Harry told himself, even as he was fairly sure it wasn’t. “Niall!” he called into the empty flat, even though he knew he wasn’t going to hear a reply.__

__He stood on a stool fetched from the kitchen in order to get the cat down from the top shelf. It felt oddly warm in his hands and for a moment he had the urge to simply fling it out the window. But no - the museums! The National Trust!_ _

__Instead, he put it in his filing cabinet (that never held the right files anyway). It was the one with the lock on it, and that made him feel somewhat better. He went about the house closing the doors and turning off the tap. Laying himself in his bed afterward, he wondered briefly what Louis would have done if he had taken it home instead._ _

____

-

The meowing started up again less than twenty minutes later. A hollow, metal banging accompanied it.

-

“Remember how I said you looked like death yesterday? Well you didn’t really. Today, on the other hand-“

“Yes, Niall. I understand. I’m living in a flat with a demon, give a man a break.”

“Ah, cat got your tongue?”

Harry was moments away from slapping Niall. “I’m just here to pick up some files. I need to contact someone.”

“I can give you the number for my priest, if you’d like!” Niall called after him as Harry left the office.

-

He knew he looked like a mess. He hadn’t really slept at all, just waited for morning. He’d briefly thought about checking into a hotel, but any that were open that late didn’t sound like the type he’d be comfortable staying in anyway.

The team he had been on kept a record in the office of everybody who had joined them at the site. Harry only hoped as he walked up the steps to a small set of flats that even though Louis used a fake I.D. he had put his real address.

What did Louis even do for a living when he wasn’t on digs? Harry was starting to realise he knew absolutely nothing about him. Did he live alone? Did he have a roommate, a girlfriend? Fish?

He knocked several times to no avail. Louis clearly wasn’t home. That being said, Harry didn’t want to be home either. Instead, he sat himself down on the front step to wait. Anything was better than the racket at home.

-

Harry hadn’t realised that he had fallen asleep until he was being prodded awake. His eyes shot open and he sat up from where he had been leaning against the wall, his back cracking as he did so. In front of him was a concerned looking Louis Tomlinson. Wonderful.

(Wonderful? Was that sarcastic or sincere? Harry didn’t even know at this point).

“What the fuck.” Louis said.

“Hi?” Harry replied, trying to sound cheerful.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Louis looked a little angry, but also confused. Nice combination. all things considered.

“I, um, it’s about the cat...”

“The cat you stole from me, you mean?” Louis grit out.

Well. Yes. “I see now that that wasn’t the right move...” Harry tried to pacify him. 

“Suck a dick.”

Harry frowned. “Well, that is a rude thing to say, but I suppose I deserve it... Look, can I come in?”

“No.”

Well. “Um... I mean, please may I come in?”

Louis narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Why? I don’t have anything else you can steal inside, so if that’s what you’re here for, you can forget it.”

Harry stood up from the stoop, cracking his back a little more as he did (Louis winced at the noise). “No - I’m really not, I swear. Listen, there’s something wrong with the cat.”

“Wrong?” Louis cut in. “What’s wrong? Did it crack? What happened?”

“No - it didn’t crack. It’s, um. It’s just sort of, alive?”

Louis stared at him.

“Alive.”

“...Yeah.”

“Right. ... Okay. I assume you’re trying to play some kind of practical joke on me, so... How do I get you to leave?”

“No, it’s true!” Harry argued. “Listen, just come with me. I can prove it. Please.”

He still wasn’t really sure why he went to Louis for help in the first place, yet here he was. Louis was the only other one there through the discovery of the cat, so maybe he’d have some sort of further insight. That was as far as his brain had gotten.

Louis was still giving him a look like he wanted to shoo Harry off of his doorstep, but he also looked resigned. “...Fine.” he finally came out with. “I’ll come with you. And then whenever you prove whatever point you’re trying to prove, or trick you’re trying to pull, I’ll punch you in the face and then leave. Cool?”

Harry nodded.

-

It was an extremely awkward trip through the underground. Harry couldn’t think of anything to say. Possibly Louis couldn’t either.

When they arrived at Harry’s flat, he briefly worried that he would be walking into a disaster zone, if the cat had been able to escape the filing cabinet. Inviting Louis in though, he made a quick scan of the room and everything looked in order.

“So...” Louis started.

“The, ah, the cat is in there.” Harry said, pointing to the filing cabinet. He went down the hall to grab the key from his room.

“In... the filing cabinet?”

“Yeah, hold on.” Harry hurried back with the key, unlocking it and carefully picking the cat up out of it. He didn’t think he really needed to be careful at this point though, since he didn’t think the cat would be able to break particularly easily. Cursed things probably couldn’t.

“It, um. I think it’s possessed?” Harry put it down on the carpet between them. He looked down at it. Louis looked down at it.

“Right...” Louis glanced at the cat and then at the door. “So... can I go now?”

“No!” Harry was growing frustrated. How could he possibly show Louis? What could he do to get the cat to move? “Listen, just. Come with me?” 

He held out his hand and Louis took it. His hand was warm and soft and dainty. Harry found he didn’t mind holding it.

He led Louis to his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Louis next to him.

“Are you planning on making out with me?” Louis asked, looking like he was genuinely trying to figure it out.

“Ssh, no,” Harry said, putting a finger to his lips. “Just give it a couple minutes.”

Louis looked like he found this whole thing ridiculous but he didn’t argue, just sat back, touching shoulders with Harry. 

God, Harry was tired. He was so tired. He hoped the cat would start doing something soon. Maybe he should just give it to Louis. Louis could sell it on the black market and Harry wouldn’t care because he was just so sleepy.

-

The feeling of a cat purring is very distinctive. When Harry was little, his cat Dusty used to curl up in bed with him and purr until he fell asleep. Waking up with that noise in his ears again was more than a little disconcerting. Dusty was miles away in Holmes Chapel with his mum.

He groaned and cracked open his eyes. He was fully clothed, half on his bed with his legs dangling off. Next to him was Louis, cross legged and staring at his phone. Sitting in Louis’s lap was the most spectacular thing Harry had ever seen.

The cat was blue and orange and had fur that rippled like the sky reflected in the ocean. He was stretched out in Louis’s lap, his shape resembling a Persian and his eyes closed and blissed out. He was purring. Loudly.

“What the fuck,” Harry whispered.

Louis finally glanced over at him. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Morning?” Harry panicked. How long had he slept?

“Oh, sorry. Good six in the afternoon. Whatever.” Louis put a hand on the cat, who shifted slightly, settling into a more comfortable position.

“That’s - the cat.” Harry said slowly, still not quite understanding.

“Yeah, seems like it.” Louis said. 

“He’s... in your lap.”

“That is what it looks like, yeah.”

“...How?”

Louis shrugged. “When you deal with a lot of haunted objects, you sort of get used to making friends with weird things. I think it just could sense it.”

“You deal with a lot of cursed objects?” Harry felt faint.

“‘Course,” Louis said. “What did you think I do all day while you’re digging in the mud?”

“Um...” Harry didn’t know how to answer that. “Also... dig?”

Louis laughed, a light, airy sound. “Is that why you’ve always been such a bitch? You thought I was just a nobody tagging along stealing things? Like a proper Mundungus Fletcher?”

Harry let out a laugh that startled the cat, who looked at him with distain before settling back down. “Ten points to Gryffindor for the reference. Are you not, then? What do you do with them?”

“Sell them to people who will take good care of them, of course. Most cursed artefacts have animals attached. They just need good owners. This one,” he scratched behind the cat’s ears, who purred appreciatively. “Was looking a bit lonely. May need a friend.”

“A... _second_ cursed item?”

“Well...” Louis looked down at the cat. “I was thinking more a real kitten. Ever thought about adopting?”

“I... But what about the museum?” Harry had been so ready to make a name for himself with this beautiful, fully-intact artefact. Louis was suggesting he keep it? And adopt a kitten to go with it?

“Oh Curly,” Louis looked at him pityingly. “You can’t give this baby to a museum. She’ll be so lonely. And she’ll raise hell. There’s a reason they need to go to private homes.”

“This cat raised hell in my flat for the last two days,” Harry argued. “How would I be able to handle it? I’ve barely slept!”

Louis gave him a sympathetic glance and ran a hand through his curls. Harry felt for a minute like purring like the cat. “We can work on that. Get her some toys to play with, things like that. Wear her out before night time.”

“We?” Harry asked. He’d certainly been warming up to Louis since he realised he wasn’t an all-out thief, but hearing from Louis that he hadn’t completely ruined things by stealing the cat was a nice encouragement.

“Of course,” Louis said. “You can’t handle this cat on her own. You’ll need a cursed artefact specialist.” He gave Harry a soft smile, which Harry returned. “We’ll need to go out for toys and food soon. Maybe we could grab some food of our own while we’re out?”

It took Harry a minute for Louis’s request to register, but then he nodded vigorously. Louis laughed and ran a hand through his hair again. “But first you can get some more sleep. I’ll keep little Adina busy.”

“Adina?” Harry asked.

“She looks like an Adina, doesn’t she?”

Harry smiled. She sort of did. 

Things were weird, and he had about a million more questions for Louis in the near future, but Harry certainly was frightfully tired and maybe not entirely thinking straight. He was asleep again within minutes, happy with the promise of a date and, oddly enough, a new set of pets.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at [LondonFoginaCup](londonfoginacup.tumblr.com) on tumblr! And if you feel so inclined, reblog my [fic post here](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/159216334529/curse-and-coincidence-ladylondonderry)


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